Unwarranted Lessons
by XxMyth MakerxX
Summary: My fanfic of Eprime's fanfic "In the Devil's Teeth"


**Eprime, if you prefer that I take this down, please don't hesitate to tell me.**

Unwarranted Lessons

"_Do you really think this is the worst place you could end up? You'd better pray that I don't give you what you truly deserve, Akihito."_

Asami hadn't been kidding when he said he'd be back. The man stopped by once a week, a demon in the darkness Akihito would have to wake up to find, to touch. Talking didn't seem to be on the table. Oh, sure, Akihito would get a few rushed words in upon discovering him in the (not _his_, he didn't want this) apartment. But Asami always put a stop to it with a practiced patience, silencing Akihito with a word or a look.

Or a fist.

The first time it happened, Akihito had been tired. Tired of the pleading and the begging and the hoping. So, when his prisoner finally reared his cruel face again after dark, Akihito gave him his world famous "fire," the fire he used to be so desired for. He snapped at the man, cutting him off with insults and sarcasm. Asami had watched him do it – quietly, blankly – on the couch, and finally stood when Akihito ran out of things to say, casually walking forward before driving a punch into the boy's stomach.

Akihito bawled like a baby once he crumpled to the floor and it finally _sunk in_, crying more out of surprise and shock and _hurt_ than physical pain. But God, if the man couldn't throw a punch. It bruised an ugly purple and dark red, something the old Asami – _his_ Asami – would've thrown a fit over, in his own creepy, possessive way. But this Asami ignored it completely, strangely never touching it and causing more pain, but never soothing it either.

And that difference – that lack of reaction – scared Akihito more than anything else.

He was a bit more careful around the man after that, something like a skittish cat that was still testing boundaries with a new owner.

One night he woke to the smell of Asami's unmistakable cigarettes. Like usual, none of the lights were on. Asami was clearly waiting for Akihito to come to him.

Akihito had sighed, sitting up in the darkness with a headache and tired eyes. Even as he moved a sluggish arm to draw back the covers, he found a lack of care. Usually, his heart would pound extra hard, as if certain it could catch Asami's attention. His palms would get sweaty from nerves. But there, about to get up and approach the stranger he used to know, he felt nothing.

He staying like that for a while, his hand loosely thumbing the fabric in his grip, his back curved with his head bent slightly forward. Good God, he was falling asleep sitting up. Not the exhausted I've-got-incriminating-photos sleepy, either, but a bored-bored-bored tired he hadn't been hit with since he was a teenager.

He'd been walking around with that kind of sleepiness for months now, going through the few motions he was permitted with a kind of fog over his sensors. Smell, taste, touch, sound, and especially sight were all kind of muddy, like he was watching a movie.

A _creak_ from the couch made Akihito's head snap up. A noise, and then footsteps, deep and foreboding, sounded off like a march. Akihito's eyes grew wide as he realized they were getting louder, and he did something he hadn't had to do in a long, long time.

He hid from Asami.

Silently laying back down, he let the covers fall naturally around him, as if he'd never woken. Turning his face away from the door, he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to just _breathe_. Anything irregular, and Asami would know.

The footsteps stopped just outside the doorway. Asami was looking for some kind of tell that he was awake, Akihito knew. Silence stretched between them, and finally Asami moved. Taking a few soft steps forward, Akihito heard a rustle of fabric, and then Asami's breath was on the side of his face, his lips just above his ear as he whispered, "Why, Akihito?"

It took everything he had to keep himself calm, but Akihito did it. Staying perfectly still, he paid close attention to his breathing, trying to ignore the little voice whispering about how wonderful it would be if Asami spent the night.

The façade came crashing down when Asami touched his cheek and Akihito flinched.

They both froze, and with Akihito too scared to speak, Asami broke the silence.

"Playing games, are we, Akihito?" The fingers on the side of his face trailed up to his hairline, dancing along his skin in a joke of a caress. "After all," Asami said, raking the fingers through Akihito's fading blonde strands. "You're just so good at it." Suddenly, the fingers twisted, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking.

"Ouch!" Akihito hissed, tears stinging his eyes as Asami brought them face-to-face.

"You're lucky I don't break your arm," Asami growled.

Akihito looked at him then, looked at the blank face with furious eyes, and asked, not for the first time, why. "Why are we – are _you_ – doing this? What happened?"

Asami sneered, "Oh yes Akihito, why indeed?"

"And why do you keep acting like it's _my_ own fucking doing?" Akihito yelled, his pitch almost a scream. "I _loved_ you!"

Akihito choked on a gasp right after he said it, immediately regretting it. But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about confessing it, hadn't imagined Asami suddenly smiling and saying, "Me too!"

But that wouldn't happen. Not just because it was stupid and corny and definitely not Asami, but because _this_ man wasn't _his_ Asami.

"You little liar."

Akihito didn't survive the night with just one bruise.

As the weeks progressed, that heavy exhaustion of boredom settled down on Akihito like a blanket, and he started to do everything without much thought – including listen to Asami. Asami, in turn, began lowering his guard little by little, making it obvious how far he thought Akihito had fallen. Akihito himself didn't know, not until he actually took a moment after washing his hands to glance up at his reflection in the mirror.

What stared back startled him.

A kid, definitely not a man, was there. Someone with long black hair, the ends dyed a bright blonde, was weakly standing, looking but not looking with hollow eyes. Blinking rapidly, the eyes seemed to gain back a smidgen of focus.

It was Akihito's wakeup call.

Three days later, when Asami came in the door, Akihito was waiting. From his crouched position in the corner he lunged, tackling the man and throwing them both to the ground. It was when he tried to stand that he fumbled, a bruising grip on his ankle.

"Well, well," a cold voice laughed. "Welcome back, Akihito."

He found himself dragged away from the half-open door, struggling and scrambling to _get out_. Asami stopped for a moment, just long enough to grab the back of Akihito's head and slam it against the floor. "Enough," he ordered, and yanked Akihito up to push him onto the couch.

The rest of the night was a long, terrible string of hours for Akihito. Asami apparently didn't have anywhere else to be, and seemed content to go over a few previous 'lessons,' spending the entire night with Akihito for the first time since he'd been moved to the hell-hole. Akihito just kept begging for the man to leave.

Morning found Akihito painfully tied to the toilet in too-tight zip ties, a device Asami commented even a freelance photographer couldn't design his way out of. Not that Akihito was on his best game that day – the injuries he'd experienced from the night before had him limp.

Asami left him like that, for how long Akihito couldn't be sure. The bathroom didn't have a window, and he hadn't found a clock in the place. The stove didn't even have a timer.

Eventually, he heard the door open, and a man entered the bathroom, followed by Asami. The man was short, with glasses and a balding head. In his hand was a black bag, and he set it down next to the tub, taking a moment to shrug out of his jacket.

Akihito, too scared to ask if he was being whored out and have Asami tell him he was right, just tried to move away from this new visitor, scrambling backwards and even pushing against the wall.

"Akihito," Asami narrowed his eyes. "Behave."

"But," Akihito mentally winced as he realized he was talking back, something Asami had made very clear just a few – couple? – hours earlier was not permissible. So he shut his mouth, but kept trying to move whenever Asami wasn't looking.

The stranger was digging through his bag now, things like needles and scalpels showing over the top as he shoved things around. Akihito's heart dropped when he caught a glimpse of a saw.

That was it. Asami had brought somebody to help get rid of the body. They were going to kill him.

Suddenly, the man stood up, holding a needle. Ah, poison. Yeah, Akihito had to admit, that'd probably make the least mess. But it didn't mean he had to give in to it.

"N-no!" Akihito yelled, kicking at the short man. "If you're gonna do that, then just let me go!"

Asami wordlessly stepped around the stranger, easily catching Akihito's flailing limbs. Spreading them apart, he pushed them forward, making them fold against Akihito's stomach in a crude example of how they used to have sex. Nowadays, Asami preferred it when Akihito's face was either obscured or turned away.

"I said behave. Now you're going to hold out your hand for this nice doctor, or else." Asami tightened his grip for emphasis.

Akihito stared at Asami for a moment before nodding, very slowly.

"Good." Letting go, Asami pulled out a knife and cut away the zip ties. Akihito cradled his hands to his chest before Asami could grab them, rubbing the angry red lines around his wrists.

"Asami-kun," Akihito's head snapped up, staring in disbelief at what the doctor had called him. He was obviously _not_ related to Asami, if the tied-to-a-toilet didn't make it obvious enough. "If you would," the man continued, motioning toward his hands.

Gulping, Akihito offered a shaking hand to the doctor, but Asami slapped it away. "No," he said. "The other one."

Akihito quickly gave up the other hand, knowing an Asami on edge when he saw one. But it wasn't his fault – neither specified which hand they had wanted.

"This'll sting for juuuust a moment," the doctor mumbled, swiping a cotton swab over the skin and following it up by sticking the needle in. Akihito bit his lip, but didn't whimper. He didn't like Asami seeing him weak, especially not this one.

The doctor withdrew, nodding. "There we are. Now, is there anything el-"

"That will be all," Asami said shortly. The doctor nodded again, stumbling over a farewell before exiting the small bathroom. A few footsteps, and then the door slammed, signaling his departure.

Akihito didn't dare meet Asami's eyes.

"What I've just done is put a small microchip beneath your skin. It's too small for the naked eye to see, tiny enough to be inserted through a needle." Checking his watch, Asami looked back to Akihito. "It's the same tracking chip given to cats and dogs." And with that, he turned, and left.

It was two months later when Asami stroked Akihito's cheek, saying quite casually, "Your first year here has been beneficial. Keep learning, and maybe you'll be out after the next one."

Later that night, Akihito was staring at the floor, his face fixed in a horrified frown.

A year.

He'd been here _a whole year._

Tears kept coming up to prick his eyes, threatening to overflow, but they never did. He idly wondered if he was too far gone to cry, to care enough, anymore.

But God, a year.

Twisting and turning, he eventually found himself on his stomach, staring at his microchiped wrist. Holding his other hand up next to it, he wondered why Asami was so against the other one being the tracker. Did he like one better than the other? Turning over his hands, Akihito shook his head to himself. Nope, both the same. Hell, even the same markings—

Oh.

_Oh._

Akihito leaned closer, tracing the outline Feilong's tattoo had left. So. Asami didn't want his leash on the same spot Fei's had been. But it didn't change that they were both the exact same thing. Except this leash would probably never come off.

Never.

Akihito contemplated what that word implied, what it meant for him and his future. His bright future that he'd always been able to look forward to, no matter what happened.

But Asami had been able to take even that away from him.

Why?

Akihito was on his back now, his hands out of sight, folded behind his head. But that didn't stop him from wondering.

Why did it have to be this way? Why did _Asami_ get to have all the control?

Why didn't he have a say?

As light filtered in from the window, Akihito made himself get up. Wasn't like he was sleeping, anyway. Still glancing at his wrists every two seconds, he stumbled into the kitchen, taking down the box of crackers and jar of peanut butter, opening the drawer to fetch out a knife.

Before he even really knew what he was doing, he was at the kitchen sink, the knife cutting across his wrist to allow a solid stream of blood – and, hopefully, the chip – escape. He gasped at the pain, gritting his teeth to stop from screaming. He dropped the knife, heard it _clink_ as it hit the bottom of the red sink.

He thought about covering up his wrist, then changed his mind and let it be. Maybe the chip hadn't come out yet. But maybe it had…? He put his hand over the cut, but then removed it. Rather, rinse, repeat. Pretty quickly, though, a pang of sleepiness swept through him. It was a missed feeling, an exhausted tired rather than the bored tired. Akihito gave into it, and felt himself drift off, easier than he'd done in months…

Akihito woke up on a cloud. At least, he assumed it was a cloud. It was softer than anything he'd slept on in months. Shifting slightly, he opened his eyes, wondering when exactly he'd closed them.

White flooded his vision, and he had to blink a couple of times before he could see properly. A black spot in the corner of his eye caught his attention, but he regretted turning to look at it as soon as he realized what – who – it was.

Asami was sitting there, dressed without a hair out of place, staring at Akihito intently. He crossed his arms, and said, "You tried to kill yourself."

Out of all the things Akihito thought he was going to say, that wasn't on the list. "W-what?"

Asami leaned forward, snatching Akihito's arm laying idly on the white sheets and shook it between them. Akihito blinked at the bandage on his wrist. "You. Tried. To. Kill. Yourself."

Akihito glanced from his wrist to Asami's face – Asami's expressive, angry face. Blinking, he asked, "Were you worried?" Asami froze, and Akihito immediately regretted it.

"Is that what you were after?" he hissed. "My _attention_?"

"No, no, no!" Akihito panicked, shaking his head violently. "I just—"

Asami raised a hand, and Akihito flinched, waiting for the blow. For once, it didn't come. "It wouldn't do to strike you now," Asami said. "Not when you have so obviously forgotten your lessons. I'll have to reinstruct you."

Akihito opened his eyes, and stared up at him. The bastard thought he wanted to commit suicide, and he was still treating him like this? So even with all of his cards laid out on the table, nothing would change? Akihito slowly shook his head, then straightened, staring Asami in the eye.

Well. If the bastard wasn't going to kill him, then…

"Why bother?" Akihito snorted. "Christ, just ask me to treat you like Fielong. That's all your 'lessons' wrapped into one."

Akihito's face split into a grin when the bastard froze, hands caught in mid-move to grab Akihito, probably hurt him again. He watched as the man's eyes turned murderous, but just kept grinning. Even when the man advanced.

Even when the pain came.

He opened his mouth to scream, but it came out as a gurgle when Asami wrapped a hand around his throat. "The whole point of this exercise, my little Akihito, is that you no longer have the pleasure of being asked." Akihito couldn't help the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, no more that Asami could help loosening his grip _just slightly_ at the sight. "Your opinion has no value on anything. Not anymore."

XxX

This is my fanfic of eprime's fanfic, "In the Devil's Teeth" that I read on livejournal. It's AMAZING! You should all go read it. I honestly couldn't stop thinking about it, but I have no fangirl friends to talk to about it, so I just decided to write about it. And then this was born, and I figured it a shame if I didn't share it.


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